9: The Unforgiveable

(TW: violence, generally uncomfy scene)

After the disaster that was their "date night" it seemed that Martien had decided a different approach was necessary. He had resumed his earlier courtesy of staying at least two strides away from her at all times, and began exiting the room if ever he felt the need to yell or smash something. Yanire was coldly indifferent. She found no comfort in any of his actions, whether he was three strides away or right in front of her- it all made her nauseous.

Still, she understood the necessity of keeping her sanity intact. If things continued to escalate the way that they had been, she might be completely unrecognizable when Adriel found her. Already she had noticed some changes within herself. Her lips seemed to have permanently tightened into a line. She had begun dissociating from this new reality so often that sometimes she awoke back into the nightmare and cried for hours. A more troubling phenomenon that had occurred was that she began to think of herself as a vessel. She had lost the ability to look at her own body and see the value in it at all- rather she saw a thing which was meant to confine her. Yanire shuddered as the familiar thoughts entered her mind and she took a very deep breath.

Martien had been gone for most of the previous day and had popped in only for a very short moment, mentioning he had a surprise for her before disappearing again. Yanire had started to feel claustrophobic in this room. It was impossible not to feel suffocated when she was quite literally trapped there. She yearned to feel the wind on her face and take a real shower with good quality soap. Martien had set up a tub system wherein he allowed her to use those motel soaps and whatnot to clean herself- but it wasn't the same. 

The sound of someone at the door shook the woman from her musings and she looked over to see Martien maneuvering his way in with a closed cardboard box. His eyes darted to her nervously, but the wrinkle of a smile still tugged at the corners of his eyes. Yanire felt nauseous. 

"Are you fully awake?"

The both of them knew her answer was irrelevant. Martien set the box down on the foot of the bed and stood next to the rounded metal edge.

"I found some things that I thought could help us both to bond."

Silence. 

"Well at least I hoped- well anyway, sit up, it will help you to see better."

Martien had started to fiddle with the tape until he peeled it back and pushed the flaps open. Yanire had the strangest feeling- almost the kind she might get if her taxi driver smelled of liquor- she had the sense that something bad was about to happen.

As soon as the baby blue binding of the book could be seen over the edge, Yanire's hands started to tremble beneath the shield of covers.

"It was a bit cluttered. Still looks almost the same as when you first made it though."

Martien set the book flat in front of her, the cover still closed. Yanire looked at him with vacant eyes, begging him to stop internally. The man refused to yield, hands reaching forward to slowly push the cover open. 

Yanire's heart ached deeply as the cover photo in the album hit her view. It was the first ever ultrasound photo from during her pregnancy. The photo had very little grain to it for being nearly ten years old now. She felt sick just looking at it.

"Martien-"

Her voice cracked with heartache as she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Yes, my beloved?"

"Please stop."

The words came out desperately, like a last prayer to a god who had forsaken her long ago. His eyes shot to her, red and hesitant.

For a moment, she thought he might stop. For a moment, so did he. 

"It will be okay, Yanire. We can be okay."

Her chest started to tighten and her airways felt clogged as he moved to flip the next page. Each moment of it was excruciating in all its slowness. She wanted all of this to be over- for him to be far away from her and for this book to be tucked back in whatever damnable corner it had been pulled out of.

  "Oh, look how tiny his feet were."

Photograph one, page one. Yanire could not move.

Martien kept on going. He always kept on going.

"Mom was so embarrassed about this one."

Photograph two, page one. The shoes Miss Bijvank bought for her future grandson were two sizes too large and non-returnable. Yanire's heart was slamming in her chest so roughly that the vein in her neck started popping.

"This must've been our first month at the old house. Remember how we had to repaint the master bedroom? You hated that color."

Photograph three, page two. Yanire felt herself drifting farther and farther from the grips of sanity. She could not take this. Not for much longer.

"Martien, stop."

He flipped to the next page, completely ignoring the woman. Photograph 5, page three. 

"Oh there he is, our baby boy."

Yanire lunged from her position on the bed like a wounded animal, screaming hysterically. Martien hardly had time to look up from the book when her hands grabbed his throat, the force of her jump causing him to catapult into the concrete floor. 

His throat gagged with a choke as he fought against her grip, eyes wide with shock. Yanire pressed her hands harder around his throat, teeth gritted and eyes burning from hot tears.

"How could you?"

The man managed to loosen her grip just enough to get out a wheeze as his head pounded from meeting the concrete.

"Y-yanire-"

"How fucking dare you bring this here to me?"

When most of the dizziness had subsided, Martien managed to shove Yanire off of him roughly. Her small frame flung into the bed with a thud as he pushed himself up on his elbows. With little break in between- the woman had thrown herself at him again, knee jutting roughly into the right side of his lower abdomen as he groaned on impact. Her hands beat down around his head wildly, animalistically. 

The sting and burn was frightening to him, it seemed Yanire had simply lost it.

"You- you fucking bastard. Oh how I wish it had been you-"

Yanire was trembling from the force of her own sobs, delirious and enraged. The man had moved his arms to block her blows, a little unsettled by her movements. Martien had never seen Yanire so angry and he wasn't sure what could be done.

Eventually the blow of her fists slowed to a stop, and as soon as it did the man pushed her off of him and moved back a few paces.

"Joeri- oh my sweet baby boy."

Yanire sobbed, rocking back and forth on her knees.

"You killed him, Martien. You killed Joeri."

The man was silent and still as a rock. Yanire was inconsolable as she tugged at her hair. 

It was possible she had really lost it.